


Wasurenagusa

by SlyFan



Series: Slys Life [4]
Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24543190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlyFan/pseuds/SlyFan
Summary: Wasurenagusa (Forget-me-not)Sly is hospitalised and Mizuki is worried (for good reason)Mizuki's POVYou don't have to read the rest of the series to understand.
Relationships: Mizuki/Sly Blue (DRAMAtical Murder)
Series: Slys Life [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793200
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

The first reaction you have when you get the call to tell you Aoba is in hospital again is to hold back a laugh. It might seem kind of serious to anyone who doesn’t know him, but you can’t help it. Probably just a broken bone from another of his constant fights, you aren’t worried.  
You are wondering why he isn’t telling you himself, but he’s probably just being a fucking brat and refusing. Or maybe it’s an x-ray or something.

And then you’re told it’s actually serious, he’s still unconscious, that’s why they’re calling you instead of him doing it and they don’t even know when he’s actually going to be awake, so they can’t make any guesses on when he’ll be out.  
And your thought very quickly changes to ‘oh shit’. You need to go see him. You go to see him the same evening, asking one of your team to cover at the bar.  
At some point, you really need more people working there officially. You can usually manage it all yourself, but sometimes you want to do tattoos in the evening too, and sometimes you just need a break, and you disappoint people when you close for the evening, even though you normally warn them.

The first night you go and see him he’s completely unresponsive. You sit by his bed for a while, but you know it doesn’t actually help for you to be there, and you don’t like seeing him like this.  
The injuries he’s got look worse than usual, and you wonder how many people he was against, because you’ve seen him beaten and bruised before, but never this badly. He’s come in bragging about how he’s fought five guys without even a broken bone before. Even on a ‘bad day’ where he does end up having to come in here, he usually starts bragging immediately about how you should see the other guy. So to see him so destroyed is just. Weird. You’re sure he’ll be back on his feet sooner than they expect, he has to be. You just don’t know how soon that’ll be. 

You ask them to let you know when he wakes up, and you’re so glad you forced him to put you as an emergency contact. You don’t really know how you would cope if you had to find out that your… That Aoba, was in hospital just through the grapevine, probably days later.  
You wonder if you would have even found out before he got out. You would have noticed he was missing, but how would you have known where he was?

You also forced him to keep his grandma down, along with the help of Ren, and you wonder if she’s been already. You’ve not actually met her, he doesn’t really keep in contact, that’s why he considered getting rid of her, but you wonder if you should make an effort to now. You don’t know how you would, but you consider it. 

You wish he kept in contact with her, you don’t understand why he doesn’t, the most you’ve ever got from him is that she doesn’t like him. When you’d told him that you don’t like him and he spends time with you, in the exact same joking tone as usual, he’d pretty much shut down. Told you that you didn’t understand and ran off to wherever he goes for a few days. He’d come back like nothing happened.

You didn’t bring it up again, even though you couldn’t possibly imagine how he’d leave his own family. Maybe there was more than he was telling you, you just had to hope. You couldn’t imagine he’d run away from home, to go and live… wherever the fuck he lived, just because his grandma didn’t like him.

For the next few days you just wait. You don’t go to see him again, even though you feel like maybe you should. You can’t just go and stare at him. You force yourself into your work even more, even though your team offer to cover more shifts for you.  
There’s always one of them at the bar in the evening, and you feel like you’re being watched. They don’t need to be watching you, you’re just fine. Even if you might pour yourself a drink with someone else a little more often than you normally do, you’re fine.

After a few days you get a call that he was awake, for a couple of hours, but he’s out again. You tell them thanks and hang up, and then you finally let yourself cry. You stay in the back room, where you’d gone to take the call, and don’t come back out.  
That’s when you really start beating yourself up for it. Maybe you should have been there waiting. You tell that to one of your oldest members, when he comes back to check on you, see why you haven’t come back out yet, and he tells you not to be so stupid. You couldn’t have known.

Maybe he’s right, but you still feel like you should have done. You hope his grandma was there for him at least. You hope he’ll be awake again soon. You want to be there for him this time, but you just don’t think you can sit there, and watch, and wait, and they wouldn’t let you be there all the time anyway.

You don’t work the bar for the next few days, and you don’t even go in. You still tattoo, it keeps you sane, but you don’t work the bar. It’s nearly a week before you go to the bar again, and even though it’s your own fucking bar, Yuto refuses to serve you.  
You try to tell him how stupid it is, that if you wanted to drink, you could drink at home, but you want to socialise. And he tells you that you shouldn’t have a problem then, because if you really just want to socialise, he’s not stopping you.

You’re itching for a fight, and he’s making himself a really good target, with that smug look when he talks, and you swear that’s half the fucking point. He’s baiting you, trying to get you to fight him instead of go out and do something dumb.  
You don’t try to fight him, even though it’s what he wants. You don’t storm out, even though you want to. You stick around and talk to them, try to keep your mind in a good place whilst you do. It’s hard with the way they look at you, like they think you might just snap.

Your own team don’t trust you, and you’re sure they think it’s helping to try and ‘look out’ for you like this, but you just feel like they’re babysitting you. You tell him you’re working tomorrow, and he doesn’t try to argue this time at least.  
You think he wants to. But he doesn’t. Maybe he’s realised that you need something to focus on. Maybe he’s genuinely worried you’ll hate him. 

They’re all family. Even if they don’t trust you with yourself right now, they all care about you. They’re trying to help you, they just don’t know how. You don’t know what you need either.

You haven’t done team stuff really since you heard, but you know it’s being managed. They’ve got it. You’re glad that it isn’t something you have to worry over right now. You’d hate if you ruined your team over how you’re feeling right now.  
You just focus on work. Both tattoos and the bar now. There’s always at least two of your team there each night, chatting and being friendly. It feels a lot more natural, apart from the fact that one of them walks you home once you close, even though you’re never drunk enough that you can’t make it yourself.

One day one of them tries to tell you that they’re worried, and at first you laugh it off, keep walking, and then he tries to push it, and you have to stop, staring at him.  
You’re doing just fine you tell him. You’re handling it, and Aoba will be back soon, you just need to know he’s okay.  
“And what..” He asks, and very intelligently cuts himself off when you start walking again.

Aoba will be fine. You’re just fine. You don’t even know why they’re so worried. Sure you didn’t used to make a habit of drinking when you worked the bar, but it’s not like you’re showing up hungover to tattoo in the morning. 

And you’ve only been seen crying once, when you got that phone call. They haven’t seen the many evenings since, and they definitely don’t need to know about them.  
You’re still their team leader, even if you’re not doing team activities at the moment, you have to at least hold yourself together. They don’t have to see how much it hurts. You’ve lost people before, but that’s different. You’ve all lost people together, supported each other through it.  
This isn’t losing someone anyway. He’s going to be just fine. It’s just. A living nightmare. It won’t be much longer. He’ll be fine soon.

You don’t count days, but you think it’s another week or two before you get another call. You’re in the middle of a tattoo, but luckily she lets you excuse yourself, and you take it in a different room. He’s finally actually awake, not just for a short time this time. Not completely with it, but awake.

When you come back, she comments that you look less sour, and you hadn’t realised it was so bad, but you nod slightly at her. “Good news.” You let her know, and she doesn’t question any more. Nobody outside of your team really knows what’s happening, but she’s happy to see you happy.  
You message your other appointments for the day and let them know you’ll have to reschedule, but you finish her tattoo before you leave. You don’t rush, even though you’re worried the same will happen again, you aren’t like that. You make sure it’s perfect for her, and then when it’s done you lock up carefully, and quickly head to the hospital.  



	2. Chapter 2

He's sat up in the bed when you walk in, staring into space, looking a lot better than he was. His arm is still in a cast, but that was all that was broken, and he looks to be mostly free of bruises now. You wonder slightly how he’d been beaten so badly, but doesn’t have any serious injuries. Luck, you guess. Considering the only other explanation would be someone going easy on him, it has to be luck.

You grin at him, wave a little, saying quickly, “Yo Aoba. Feeling better?”   
The way he jumps tells you he hadn’t even noticed you coming in. You were warned he wasn’t quite with it, but you weren’t expecting that, he’s normally so aware of everything around him.

He doesn’t reply, and you laugh a little, heading to sit next to his bed, “Not talking to me? Going to pout over the fact I wasn’t here when you woke up?”

He still doesn’t answer you, but he just watches you, and it makes you uneasy. It’s like he’s trying to figure you out, but it isn’t a sneer, he just looks genuinely confused. 

“Sorry.” Is the first thing he says, and it’s just not right. It’s not him. Even out of it, you wouldn’t expect him to be like this. Do they actually have him on something? They would’ve told you if they’d given him something, he’s just. Weird. Not right.

“Sorry?” You ask, chuckling a little, trying to just act normal. Maybe if you stay normal, he’ll get back to it soon enough. He just needs a second of having someone he knows with him. You hope that’s it. But the way he apologised over absolutely nothing really doesn’t help convince you, considering you’re sure you’ve never heard him actually apologise for a thing.

He doesn’t laugh, he just stares at you, like he still really can’t figure you out, despite the fact you’re acting as natural as you can. 

“Has your grandma been yet?” You ask, when he doesn’t say a thing to you for far too long, just wanting to break the silence. 

“No.” He answers quickly, and then he asks you, pretty suddenly, “Can you call her?”

You heard that wrong. You clearly heard that wrong. Because he’d never actually want you to call his grandma. And he knows you don’t know how. So you’ve heard wrong, despite how much you really wish that he truly did want to see her.

“What was that?” You ask, and you expect him to be clearer, and it’s going to be something like ‘Did they call her?’

“My coil is missing, please can you call her for me?” He asks, far too politely, too calm, and it scares you slightly. You don’t understand, he knows you don’t know the number, he never wants to see her, it’s like you’ve gone into some backwards world, and he’s still staring at you, as if he expects you to just agree to it. 

You don’t know what he’s thinking, really. You’re never confident you do, but you always have some sort of idea, a clue of why, what his game might be. Right now though? You’re just lost.  
It’s like he doesn’t give a shit you’re here, and instead he’s just decided to ask you of all people to contact the woman he’s always told you he can’t stand. It’s mad. You just want to understand, but you can’t.

“I’ll ask the nurse to call her again when I leave.” You say, and he smiles slightly. You wonder if you should go. You’d been hoping to spend time with him, ask him what happened, just have him back. And he hasn’t even touched you, hasn’t stopped staring like you’re some kind of alien.

You reach out to touch his arm, just curious, completely prepared for that teasing tone, calling you out for being soft on him, and instead he just shifts away quickly, looking like a deer in headlights, and it’s so fucking wrong on him.   
All of this is wrong. He’s acting wrong, weaker than you’ve ever seen in the years you’ve known him, he looks wrong, skin plainer than it has been in months at the very least, and even his eyes seem like there’s less challenge in them.

“I’m going to go.” You say, even though you feel like you shouldn’t. Because you can’t stay. You can’t. Not with him acting like this. You don’t think he wants you here, and the way he doesn’t even respond only confirms that.

“It’s good to see you awake again, Aoba.” You tell him, standing up and heading to the door, and he nods a little, saying back, “Thanks for visiting.”

What sort of fucking reply is that? What the hell was all of that? That wasn’t him playing, he doesn’t keep things up for that fucking long, that’s something being wrong, and you can’t say what, but you need to know.   
You leave, and you take a deep breath to try to calm yourself at least a little as you stop to talk to a nurse on the way out, asking her to call his grandma. You’re sure she must have already been contacted, you just made it here faster. Still though, that’s what he wants, so you ask. 

You guess it’s not your business why he wants her. You want to know why, but you care more about him being happy. And you have always been asking him to talk to her again. You just didn’t expect it like this. You ask for her contact details too, you want to talk to her. But they can’t give you that, and you’d kind of expected it, but it still frustrates you a little.

As you walk out you check the time, and you could still do your final appointment, if you really wanted. You don’t though, so you’re lucky you cancelled earlier. You’ll have a few hours alone at the bar until it’s time to open.

Well. ‘Alone’. At least one of your team will show up an hour or so before open, to help you ‘set up’. There’s nothing to set up, but that’s what they tell you. And it’s still your teams main meeting space. So if they’re not out, watching and claiming territory, then there’ll be even more of them, for even longer. They’re staying busy though, you’d be rushing more to get back to running them if they weren’t.   
So it should be you alone for at least a couple of hours.   
Apart from the fact it absolutely isn’t, it’s exactly what you need.  



	3. Chapter 3

You’re alone when you head in, like you expected. Good. You pour yourself a shot first, even though you like cocktails sometimes, you’re not fucking around with that right now. It doesn’t even really burn, you’re far too used to spirits for that, but it’s not smooth either.

You’re only drinking your cheap stuff. You wouldn’t be able to appreciate anything good properly right now anyway. You go for another shot, both poured to be doubles and probably more generous than that. You prefer to just eyeball things rather than measure, and when it’s for yourself you really don’t care if it’s a little much.

Then you pour yourself a whiskey, and go to sort out all your tattoo stuff. You’ll work tomorrow, you’ll be fine, but it still needs to all go away before the bar opens tonight. You shouldn’t have left everything out when you rushed off, but it’s fine, you’re sorting it now.

Everything is going to be fine.

No matter how much you repeat that to yourself, it doesn’t feel any more true. 

He was fine. He was sitting and talking and you’d thought that would be enough for you.   
You hadn’t imagined that he could be like. That.   
Like he was looking right through you, didn’t even recognise you.

You shouldn’t be more upset now that he’s awake than you were when he was unconscious.  
Even if he’s acting strange, you should still be happy that he woke up.

You pour yourself some more whiskey, sitting on one of the stools and just trying not to focus too much on how you’re a horrible person.

It’s very hard to avoid though, sat alone and thinking about how you should be relieved but instead you’re just disappointed.   
You shouldn’t be disappointed, it’s wrong to be disappointed, because it’s not like he’s not still him. You still have him. 

It just doesn’t feel like you do.  
Something was wrong, more than just in what he said. You could just feel something.

You shouldn’t be like this just over a feeling though. You shouldn’t be avoiding him just because he doesn’t seem right, you should be there for him, helping him to get back to himself.  
You can’t though. You can’t bring yourself to go back, you can’t see him like that. It’s worse than seeing him unconscious, even though it shouldn’t be.

You don’t feel like you can go to your team, even though you normally go to them. You’ve even gone to them with things about Aoba before.   
You sure can’t talk to him about them. He doesn’t take a single thing seriously.

You can’t talk to them about this though. You haven’t gone to them whilst he’s been unconscious for weeks, but that was just because you didn’t know what to say.   
And now you need someone, but you can’t talk to them, because they won’t understand. They aren’t going to understand that he’s just. Not right.

You know him better than anyone else, you’re sure of that. And normally it helps, but now it just means they won’t understand. They know what he’s like, but they won’t get it. They won’t get the feeling of just.. Wrongness.   
They’re going to think you’re awful for not being absolutely thrilled to have him back. And you were. All the time you walked there, you were absolutely thrilled to have him back.

But you aren’t now, and that really is awful of you. The way your heart sank after talking to him, despite the fact he’s completely physically fine now.   
It was fucked up. So you don’t want to tell them, you don’t want them to tell you what you know yourself.

You sit in near silence, drinking and thinking far more than you want to, for at least an hour longer, maybe two. You drink a lot less rapidly than you had been, you’re not looking to pass out here, but you are definitely drinking enough that anyone else would probably get to that point.   
If someone showed up at your bar, in the state you’re in now, you’d turn them away immediately. Probably ask one of your team to help them get home, even if they were still on their feet. You definitely wouldn’t be pouring them another drink, unless it was water to force them to drink.

You don’t want water though, you want whiskey, so that’s what you have. Even though you’d make anyone else stop long before they had as much in them as you do right now, you don’t have to stop.

You’re just fine.   
You’re not going to start any fights.  
You’re not going to break anything.  
You’re not going to trip over yourself when you stand to leave, (although you haven’t stood in a while, so you can’t be too confident in that.)  
You’re just fine.

All you’re going to do. Is sit here. And take some deep breaths. Hide your face in your hands, and try to ignore the sticky dampness of tears you failed to wipe away.   
You’re still crying, although you’re not exactly sure why.

Obviously you know what’s wrong. You’re not that drunk. But you’re not focused on it anymore, it feels more far away. You’re distant from everything, how you feel, how you bring the drink to your mouth without even really thinking.

How the door opens with the sound of laughter, feeling like it’s miles away.  
And how that laughter quickly drops to nothing, and you still don’t look over.

You just keep staring at your drink, and the steps approaching you feel like they aren’t really there. A million miles away and yet so loud and pounding in your ears, demanding attention that you don’t have the energy to give.

Kyo wraps his arm over your shoulder first, and then you have Yuto on your other side, both of them holding you close, not knowing quite what to say. You don’t know what to say either, but you rest against Kyo’s side, and you think your cry more, but he doesn’t say anything.  
Neither of them do, and you think maybe they’re the only two who came in. You suppose you should be grateful for that. That none of the rest of your team is here to see you. You look around, and you don’t see anyone else. Good. You’re sure that’s good, even though you can’t really process the shame right now. 

“Are you alright?” Kyo asks, and you nod stiffly. You’re fine. Obviously. Completely fine.  
“He needs to go home.” Yuto says, and you shift even closer to Kyo then, trying to avoid him.  
At least they’re admitting to your face now that they don’t think you’re alright. You prefer them being straightforward with you.

“What happened?” Kyo asks, and you feel kind of like he’s babying you. Like a small child, who overreacts to everything. You aren’t overreacting. You’re fine! You’re just fine, and you wish he would just stop fucking talking!

“Nothing! Nothing happened!” You tell him hurriedly, because you know you can’t explain. You aren’t sure of a lot, but you’re absolutely positive that you can’t explain it.  
You stay against his side, because even though you want him to shut up, you want that vague feeling of him with you, even though it feels completely surreal, to stay. You like to have them close, and you like how Yuto keeps his arm over you, even though you’re not leaning into them. 

You’re being a pain, in not telling them. And they’re still being so nice to you, treating you like you deserve their fucking kindness, even though you know that you don’t. They don’t know that.

Kyo hums slightly, and pats your head, holding you tightly. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but you don’t really want to either. You don’t need to know what he’s thinking.

He helps you to stand, and you’re far less steady than you thought you would be, practically falling against him, glad he’s larger than you, although you know most of you could probably support someone larger than you if needed.

Kyo holds you against his side, rubbing your shoulder gently, and you’re glad he doesn’t try to ask you anything, instead just pushing your drink away slightly, along with the bottle you’d been pouring from, nearly empty, although it hadn’t started full, so there’s no issue there.

You try to shift away from him, unsuccessfully, with how strong Kyo’s grip is around you. You don’t need them to help you out.

You’re not even that drunk.  
You’ve only had… Half? Maybe over half.  
Either way, you’re fine.  
You’re just fucking fine.

“I’ll watch the bar.” Yuto lets you both know, and Kyo nods, walking you towards the door, not giving you any chance to try and argue before he practically forces you out of the door. Looks like there’s no arguing with them this time. You’re sure you could probably still make any drinks anyone might want.  
Probably.  
Maybe not.  
They shouldn’t be forcing you out of your own fucking bar though.

Even if they’re right that you shouldn’t be there.  
They shouldn’t be making you leave.

Kyo kisses your temple, keeping his arm around you the whole time he walks you to your house.   
A lot of your team are like this with you. And with each other. So close and caring and you’re so fucking lucky to have them.  
You wish Aoba would’ve just joined when you asked him to. The many, many, many times you asked him to. 

They cared about him even though he wasn’t in the team, just because you did.   
They would have cared for him more though, if he’d joined. If he’d been one of yours instead of.. whatever they thought of him as. You don’t want to think of what they actually thought of him.

Kyo takes you home, a very short walk, and he doesn’t just stay at the door as he usually does, instead walking you in. It’s a little weird, and you aren’t sure exactly why he’s done it, but you don’t complain.   
You just follow him blankly into your own kitchen, and when he pushes a glass of water into your hand you drink it without even questioning. He takes it back, fills it again, and you drink again. 

You slow when you’re given the third, and he takes that hesitation to lead you to your room, sitting next to you on your bed, pulling you against him.  
“Are you going to talk?” He asks, and you aren’t sure for a second. You don’t think you can explain. But. You want them to know. Even if they don’t understand, if they know then…. You suppose it won’t actually help anything. You feel they should. And clearly you’re here just following gut feelings, because you’re an idiot!

“He woke up.” You tell him simply, and his arm freezes. If you were in a better mood, you might find the complete confusion funny. Now though, you just know that it’s because you’re being fucking weird. Because you’re a bad person for being anything but thrilled about that.

He doesn’t say anything though, just giving you time with it, and rubbing your arm again after his second of hesitation.  
Of course he’s not going to fucking tell you that you’re a bad person.   
You wish he would. You wish he would tell you how fucked up you are for not being pleased your.. Aoba. Your Aoba. You should be thrilled that Aoba is back.

He doesn’t tell you that. He just waits, and you do eventually try to explain more. You don’t think you make sense, but you fucking try, through tears that are coming again as you start to fully sob against his side.

“He’s not..” What do you even fucking say? What can you tell him? You sigh, resting close against his side. “Himself.”   
You don’t imagine he believes you, and you don’t look at his face because you can’t deal with seeing how much he doesn’t. “He’s just not himself. He wasn’t… wasn’t teasing or laughing or anything.” 

They don’t know him that well. But they know he’s a fucking asshole. Everyone knows that. They might not know what you see in him, but you suppose that knowing he’s an asshole is enough for him to understand this.

“He was so fucking quiet and meek and wrong!” You tell him, louder than you really should be, and you don’t know how he keeps quiet, why he doesn’t tell you you’re an idiot, but you hate him for it.  
Why won’t he just tell you! He could just tell you that you’re a bad person! At least then you’d be sure! At least then you wouldn’t have to worry what he’s thinking about as he sits there in complete fucking silence!

He stays there a moment, still just holding you close, not saying a thing, just leaving you to your thoughts again. You don’t know if it’s worse or better with someone with you. Worse, probably. Because he’s making you actually think, and he’s nudging your hand to make sure you keep drinking, and the water is sobering and cold enough that it’s almost pulled you back to being fully aware, which wasn’t what you fucking wanted. 

You wish you could just stay avoiding everything, why wouldn’t he leave you to yourself, not having to think at all.   
He isn’t really forcing you to think. He’s just encouraging you to drink some water, and you’re doing all the thinking all by yourself. Exactly what you were avoiding. Clearly he doesn’t get that.

You feel like you have to keep talking, and you don’t know why, but for a long while you refuse, just staying against him. 

And then eventually the silence gets too awkward, and you feel like he’s expecting something, like you have to say something more, try to explain yourself.   
You can’t explain yourself, but you do add, quietly, “It was like he was staring right through me. Like he didn’t care at all who I was.”

He nods a little, and finally actually speaks again, saying quietly, “Just give him a few days. And one of us will go with you if you want.”

You shake your head. You’ll go see him alone. Maybe having one of them with you would confirm what you know, that something is wrong. But maybe they wouldn’t see it.  
You don’t know what you’d do if they couldn’t see it.

So you’ll go alone. Again. You don’t know when you’ll feel confident enough to go, but soon. It just depends how you feel, really. Whether you think you can cope seeing him like that.  
Honestly, right now you aren’t sure you’re ever really going to be ready. You hope you will be. Or that he’ll return to himself sooner rather than later. You want to be able to see him and just be with him again.

He doesn’t talk again, just letting you stay against him, not stroking your arm anymore, just still. Letting you just breathe, not have to do anything, and letting you fall asleep.


End file.
